


Old Man Mac

by ImaMePanda



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Spanking, themes of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/ImaMePanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all deal with grief differently. Sometimes we even lash out at those who are hurting the most. And it's not like dying ever made anybody nicer anyway... </p>
<p>Warning: Spanking. Ridiculous amounts of swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Man Mac

“You know, you're allowed to be upset, but that doesn't mean you get to act like a spoiled, ungrateful, dick!” The shorter man growled at his brother in-law as he stormed up to the fence he was leaning on at the edge of the parking lot, not giving a shit if the neighbor lady who'd been walking up to bum a smoke from the younger man had frozen where she was, staring at him like he was a mad man.

“Oh fuck you Larry, like you're one to talk about being a dick! The way you talk to my sister half the fucking time...You should just get the fuck out of my face, I'm not in the fucking mood.” Ian bit out the words around the smoke hanging from his mouth, glowering and stretching up to his full height, even pushing out his chest a bit, but Larry wasn't having it.

“This isn't about me and Tara or our problems, you little cocksucker, this is about the way you just talked to your Uncle Mac, and you fucking know it. And I don't give a shit about your “mood”. You don't get to change the subject this time Ian, or pretend it didn't happen, I've fucking had it.” Larry was practically hissing up into Ian's face, cheeks mottled with outrage. “The man raised you, and he's fucking dying and you talk to him like that?” Martha, the neighbor, made a noise, as though to interject, and Larry shot her a look, and was pleased when she retreated to her apartment. Harmless old gossip or not, he didn't need her interference right now.

“He was being a fucking asshole and you know it! Dying or not, he's still a mean fucking drunk, and I shouldn't have to put up with it! I'm tired of being fucking grateful all the time, tired of watching him kill himself, I just-I'm fucking tired Larry! I just can't fucking take it anymore!” Ian's chest was heaving again, but not with anger, not just anger anyway, and for the first time Larry hesitated, 'cause god did part of him ever get where the kid was coming from...

That didn't mean he was just gonna let it go though. Someone needed to get through to him.

From what Larry could tell, it wasn't gonna be too much longer Ian had his Uncle around, and he knew damn well that if Mac went when the two were fighting...it wouldn't be pretty.

“You made him fucking cry Ian. I know he's an asshole, but he's also a sick old man. He's dying, stuck in his house, and he's lonely and bitter about it.” Larry laughed, a short, dry, laugh with no humor in it, “I know it doesn't make it easier, and God knows, when he gets on your sister sometimes it just makes me crazy...Hell, I've lost my temper myself but...”

The boy had turned partially away, and when the other man trailed off he spoke quietly, voice tight with self disgust. “I didn't mean to make him cry. Didn't know I had. Fuck...God, I really am a loser aren't I? A grade a piece of shit. He's right. He always has been fucking right.” 

A surge of frustration threaded through Larry. That wasn't what he had meant. God, that wasn't what he had meant at *all*. “You shouldn't listen to what he says when he's drunk. He doesn't mean it.” Ian snorted, and then kicked violently at the fence, connecting with a satisfying thump that vibrated up his leg.

“Yeah, right. Hell, it's the truth anyway. I know it, I'm just too fucking useless to do anything about it!” *Wham!* Ian pulled back his fist and slammed it into the fence, feeling the skin on his knuckles scrape and tear with a strange sense of relief, and began to pull the other one back even as Larry startled with a shout, jumping forward to stop him. He'd turned his back entirely now and just shrugged the shorter man off at first, but Larry was scrappy, and got himself in between Ian and the fence, his hands on the other man's shoulders, shaking him.

“Hey, hey, that's enough! Calm the fuck down man! You really wanna get beat up I'll take care of it for you, no need to go doing it yourself!” Larry barked it out, irritated and worried, but Ian wasn't listening now, and just did his best to knock Larry off of him, not quite succeeding, and instead jamming him back into the fence and making him knock his head against it. “Ow! You little motherfucker!” It descended into a full out wrestling match, the two grappling with each other, neither of them quite mad enough to take a swing, but shoving each other so they landed square on their ass sounded about right. 

Somehow they wound up on the ground in a tangle, Ian the worst off of it, torso pinned in between Larry's legs, face practically in the dirt. “Fuck you man, let me the fuck up!”

“Not until you calm the fuck down!” 

“Fuck you!” Ian jerked his arm up and back attempting to elbow his brother-in-law. He would have missed by a mile even if Larry hadn't jerked his mid-section backwards in anticipation, but that didn't really please the other man. He glared down at the back of his little brother-in-law's head, and then suddenly a smirk grew on his face as he realized just what this position reminded him of...He lifted his hand up and-

*WHACK!* 

Connected firmly with the seat of a rather ragged pair of jeans, eliciting a shocked howl. A second later he was shaking his hand and really wishing his little finger hadn't hit Ian's wallet chain.

“What the fuck Larry! Let me up! I'm gonna tell my sister you're some kind of pervert!” Larry snorted and smacked down again, careful to avoid both chain and wallet this time.

“This doesn't have a fucking thing to do with anything but you getting your ass kicked and you know it.” He smacked him a third time, hard and low, and Ian bit back a whimper. “You don't get to beat yourself up, or the damned fence either for that matter. Like I told you, you want your ass kicked, I can more than take care of that.” Another smack.

“I'm not a kid!” Ian tried to leverage himself up, pushing on the ground, and twisting to the side, but it was no good, he was well and truly stuck. 

“Yeah? Well quit acting like it then!” A fifth smack, hard and just touching the top of a thigh. Ian clenched his fists and bit down on the inside of his lip. Fuck. “Quit sitting on your ass, saying you're such a loser, but never doing anything about it! Quit feeding into the old man's shit when you know better! Quit hiding in your room, never doing anything at all! You're better than this shit!” Another smack. Larry wasn't exactly pulling any punches. Another smack. Ian was going to kill him. 

Another smack. Another. Another. He couldn't take it anymore, it just wasn't ending, it just wasn't ending, and he hated Larry, and he hated Uncle Mac and he hated himself-another smack-enough, it was enough!

“Stop! I'm fucking sorry okay! I don't know what the fuck you want me to sa-y!” His voice was on the verge of breaking, more from the humiliation than the pain, but his ass fucking hurt too, and what did Larry want?!

Nothing. Then a hesitant hand on his back, and muffled cursing. “Shit kid, I'm sorry, I just...”

“Just let me the fuck up, okay asshole?” There was a bit of scrambling around, and then Larry was trying to help him up and Ian was ignoring him in favor of the fence, refusing to look at his brother-in-law. 

Larry hesitated for a second then reached out a hand and placed it firmly on Ian's shoulder. He started to tense and jerk away and then stopped, still stiff but not moving away. “I should break your fucking face for that, you know?” 

“No. You shouldn't, and you don't want to anyway.”

A low chuckle, and then Ian swiped a hand across his eyes. “You're right. Sort of anyway-I probably should. But I don't want to.” Larry squeezed his shoulder softly. 

“Good.” Ian turned suddenly, and for second Larry thought he was going to get decked in the mouth after all, but instead he found himself with an armful of overgrown kid almost bowing him over. Good thing Ian didn't notice him flinch. “Hey, hey, you're alright now.” He clamped his arms firmly around Ian, returning the hug, probably one of only a handful of times they'd actually hugged rather than just half embracing and trying to see how hard they could get away with smacking each other on the back.

“I'm sorry. I know I've been freaking out, and it isn't helping shit. I-just-I don't know-what are we gonna do when he dies? He's going to, we've got what, maybe a year? It's-just-what if it all just falls the fuck apart? What are we gonna do?” Fuck. Larry tightened his arms even tighter around Ian.

“It sure as fuck isn't gonna fall apart. It'll suck okay-” Larry had to swallow hard over the lump in his throat, “It'll suck like fucking hell. But we'll be okay. 'Cause even when he's gone, all of us? We'll still have each other. I ain't going nowhere. Your sister isn't. Neither is anybody else. You planning to leave anytime soon?” Ian shook his head. “I didn't think so. You'll see.” 

The two turned to head inside when all of a sudden they noticed the cop car that was slowly heading towards them. “Fuck.” Ian muttered, “Martha called the cops.”

“Yep. Martha called the cops.” Larry knew it probably wasn't the best idea to start laughing, but honestly, he couldn't help it.


End file.
